


The Dance, Part II

by zinke



Series: What We Didn't See [4]
Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-15
Updated: 2007-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh knew Donna was kidding with him, he really did. But he also knew an opportunity when he saw one (at least, most of the time he did) and decided in that moment to do something he hadn't done in as long as he could remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance, Part II

**Author's Note:**

> A full explanation of this insanity of a series can be found in the Author's Notes in the first installment. You really should read _The Dance part I_ (third in the series) first, otherwise this piece may be a bit confusing.

* * * *

"Dance first. Think later. It's the natural order."   
-Samuel Beckett

* * * *

Licking his lips, Josh took a fortifying breath as he approached the table, all too aware that the last time he'd seen her, he'd effectively blown off her less-than obvious advance in favor of ad-buys and electoral math. CJ had been right; it was time to stop dicking around and try harder. On all fronts.

"Any more fried wontons?"

"Hey." She sounded surprised, but smiled reassuringly up at him as she raised her plate in offering. "Not so lucky, but the crab puffs are pretty good."

He plucked a puff from the plate and tossed it casually in his mouth. "Thanks."

"So, how's CJ?"

His eyebrows shot up, and he inexplicably found himself feeling guilty that she had seen him dancing with another woman—even if it was only CJ. "Good," he squeaked, "she's good. I think they're having more trouble in Kazakhstan."

"Something we're going to have to make a statement about later?"

He could see the glitter of disappointment in her eyes, and suddenly realized that she believed the sole reason he'd even bothered to approach her was to talk about the campaign. Silently, he cursed himself for being such a phenomenal asshole. "Don't worry about it tonight."

"I'm sorry?" She raised a hand to her ear as if to funnel the sound of his voice. "I don't think I heard you correctly."

He knew she was kidding with him, he really did. But he also knew an opportunity when he saw one (at least, most of the time he did) and decided in that moment to do something he hadn't done in as long as he could remember. Taking his chance, he leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Dance with me."

She turned her head slightly, so that their noses were nearly touching. "Really?"

Josh couldn't stop the smirk that settled upon his lips. "You mentioned earlier that you were looking to be entertained." Pulling himself upright before she could form a response, he reached out his hand to her, and waited.

He felt his heart literally skip a beat at the brilliant smile that broke across her face as she settled her hand lightly in his. "Yes, I did. And you think your dance moves will do the trick?"

"Hey, I can dance," he protested with a grin as he gripped her hand more firmly in his and led her towards the parquet at the center of the room.

"Did you hear me say that you couldn't?"

"You were thinking it."

"Shut up and dance with me, Joshua." He still, all these years later, couldn't understand how the sound of his given name, so condescending coming from anywhere else, could sound so remarkably melodic and intimate falling from her lips.

Turning to face her, he brought their clasped hands up to rest over his heart. "'Kay," he breathed as they began to move together.

"Josh?" she said tentatively. Far too content to be bothered with formulating a response, he merely hummed an acknowledgment. "There isn't...anything else for me to be worried about? Is there?"

He was about to ask her what she meant when abruptly it clicked, and the stress from earlier in the day came flooding back with unexpected intensity. "Leo's gonna sit down with me later," he replied vacantly, suddenly preoccupied with silencing the sickening cacophony in his head.

"But everything's okay?" The naked concern in her voice snapped his attention back into focus, and he tried his best to give her a reassuring smile.

He could tell from the look on her face that he was doing a terrible job. "Yeah, everything's okay."

"Good," she asserted with a forceful nod. "Because come November, you're going to be the reason he wins this election."

Astonished, he pulled back so that he could see her face. "You're defending me?"

"You're surprised?" she shot back, sounding equally dismayed and, he noted belatedly, a little bit annoyed.

The jibe was past his lips before he had a chance to stop it. "I just wish you could have had this much faith in me before you left—"

"Don't," she cut in with a severe, cautionary look. "Just...don't."

He swallowed thickly to keep himself from saying anything else, and found himself gripping her hand more tightly for fear that she would walk away and leave him there, embarrassed and alone. She didn't though; instead, he was shocked to feel her lean in closer, settling her shoulder against his and wrapping her arm more securely across his shoulder blades. This close, he could smell the floral scent of her fading perfume; feel the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. He found himself thinking that they were sensations he could easily get used to.

Her voice, kind and low, interrupted his deep introspection. "It was my _job_ not to allow for the possibility that you might win the nomination. That doesn't mean I didn't believe you could do it."

"It didn't have to be your job."

He felt rather than heard her sigh. "It really did."

"Why?" he asked, unable to keep the plaintive bewilderment from his voice.

She gently squeezed his shoulder. "So I could get here, to this, and not have to ask that very question."

Josh considered her words, fighting to keep the hurt and resentment at bay long enough for him to at least attempt to decipher her words and understand her point of view. He found to his dismay that he was not very successful; yet the very fact that he was at least trying was a step in the right direction.

Gradually he became cognizant of the fact that his ongoing silence was likely sending her the wrong message, and he quickly began floundering for something appropriate to say. Finally, cautiously, he ventured, "If you wanted to, you could still have a long way to go."

"You think so?" she said warily, pulling her head back to look at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

His mouth curled into a brittle smile. "Know so. Half the people in this room know so. And the other half isn't involved in domestic politics, so simply don't know any better."

"Josh." The bright smile gracing her lips did little to make her half-hearted admonishment convincing.

"Just dance with me, Donnatella," he murmured as he pulled her close again, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to forget everything else, if only for the moment.

 

*fin.*


End file.
